


Apples to Apples

by Decisions_Decisions



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Binoculars, Deducing Strangers, Friendly Fire, It's For a Case, Las Vegas Wedding, Multi, No One is Hurt, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sherlock is Armed, Someone Spiked the Booze
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decisions_Decisions/pseuds/Decisions_Decisions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots inspired by the card game Apples to Apples. Original summary has been moved to the authors notes.<br/>1. Viva Las Vegas<br/>2. Rear Window<br/>3. Movie Night</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Viva Las Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> Using five red cards and five green cards chosen at random from the party game Apples to Apples and its expansion pack I will write each chapter. From the red cards I will use settings and events. I will have to use the main word from each of the green cards in the chapter.  
> 

Red: Americans, Las Vegas, Power &Glory, Stubbed Toes, and Last Night  
Green: Flavorful, Responsible, Smelly, Shiny, and Fuzzy

The last thing John remembered was throwing back flavorful cocktails in a casino and laughing as Sherlock sipped at a painfully pink concoction that smelled vaguely of strawberries. He couldn’t remember a thing that happened after that; though from the obviously naked body he was spooning and the fuzzy feeling in his head he had a feeling it wasn’t good. He blinked open sleep crusted eyes and groaned as the overly bright light coming in from the window assaulted his eyes and he closed them wondering if he fell asleep he could avoid the disaster he was sure was about to occur. The person behind him pushed back into him with a sleepy sigh, a very deep sigh. That was also when he began to register that the chest his arm was wrapped around was lacking something his usual partners always had. 

He jerked back his eyes flying open to catch a glimpse of pale skin and dark curls he was all too familiar with. He jerked himself right out of the bed landing hard on his posterior a small cloud of shiny silver glitter falling from his hair. He stood quickly enough to make himself dizzy, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Okay there had to be a reason he was lying naked in bed with a naked Sherlock covered in glitter. This wasn’t something that just happened to people, you didn’t just wake up naked with your best friend. He took another deep breath, deep enough to make his lungs hurt with the effort and slowly opened his eyes.

“What the hell happened last night?” John exclaimed as he saw the chaos that had over taken wherever the hell he was.

The room he never remembered entering was done entirely in shades of pinks. The floor was covered in glitter of all shades, the tables were overturned, Champaign was sloshed over what looked to be a very tacky pink love seat, and the horrendous sight was complete with a half-eaten three tiered pink cake taking up the only table that had survived. Then there were twin trails of clothing that clearly depicted an enthusiastic rush to the bed. John felt his face flame but he made his way to his trousers and pulled them on ignoring the glitter that had stuck to the fabric. Once he was partially dressed he made his way to what he guessed was the loo. He opened the door and walked into the bathroom his eyes widening at the sight of a sleeping man handcuffed to the bathtub tap. 

He closed the door too fast and hit his toe with the door. He hissed and jumped back his hands reaching to cradle the injured foot cursing. His back hit something and he whirled around forgetting the pain to look at what he’d hit. He was greeted by the still very naked Sherlock who hadn’t even used a sheet to cover himself. John glared at him.

“Why are we here and why is there a man handcuffed to the bathtub?” John shouted pointedly not looking down.

“We were on a case, remember?” Sherlock said seemingly nonplused by the state of their room and his nudity.

“You never told me we were on a case! I thought we were on vacation, but I should have known Sherlock Holmes would never visit Las Vegas without there being a case attached!” John shouted before he closed his eyes against a sudden throbbing in his head.

“We were invited here by the owner of the casino, homosexual couples who visited the chapel were being found murdered in their rooms. Most of the couples were foreigners, but a few were Americans. You agreed to pose as my fiancé and marry me in the chapel for the case. We caught the son of the owner, who had been committing the murders, when he cornered us in our room. I managed to fight him off and while he was distracted by me you hit him over the head with the lamp. We cuffed him to the tub to keep him from getting away, it all a mess after that.”

“And then we hit the bar? Sherlock this isn’t responsible behavior. What kind of detective gets sloshed on a case?” John shouted his hands shaking by his head.

“I didn’t get drunk.” Sherlock scoffed like the idea itself was ridiculous. “The Champaign was drugged.”

“And that would explain why someone soaked the cushions with it.” John said rubbing at his forehead. “Fine well now would be a good time for you to put your trousers on and for me to call the police.”

“I’ll call the police, I remember more than you.” Sherlock said walking over to the phone giving John an unwanted but oddly stimulating view of his arse. 

“And put some clothes on, this place is starting to get smelly and after last night I could use some breakfast.” John said turning to gather his clothes from the floor.

In thirty minutes the cops had come and picked up the owners son. Sherlock had walked them through his deductions at John’s instance and revealed that they would find stolen property from each of the victims in the son’s room along with a stash of poisoned Champaign. The owner had been less than enthusiastic about his son’s crimes and the state of the room, but he still promised them that the room and all the amenities were on the house and thanked them for protecting his customers. 

“I’ll have the Power & Glory.” John said seeing the oddly named sample platter as the most appetizing thing on the menu at the small diner that Sherlock led them to.

“And I’ll have the coffee, black with two sugars.” Sherlock said with an unsettling fake smile at the pretty waitress. 

John sighed, but turned to the pretty brown haired waitress with a real smile. “Get him the same thing I’m having, and I’ll have a coffee as well, with cream and no sugar.”

“Will that be all?” She said as she took their orders.

“Yes.” John said quickly before Sherlock could answer her, if his scowl was anything to go by they would have ended up with nothing but an angry waitress and not even a bite to eat.

“Be right back with your coffee.” She said with a saccharine smile.

John smiled and nodded at her his smile falling the instant her back was turned. “So if we only got married for a case why were we naked in bed together this morning?”

“We were under the influence of drugs.” Sherlock said his face blank enough that it would fool someone who didn’t live with the man, but John knew him better than that.

He gave Sherlock his version of the unsettlingly fake smile. “And as we both know you happen to have a much higher drug tolerance than I do.” 

“We’d just gotten married and you passed out before anything could happen.” Sherlock said glaring at the picture of smiling pancakes on the menu.

“No we never got married we pretended to get married.” John hissed under his breath.

“It’s not pretend if you sign the marriage license.” Sherlock said pulling an official looking paper out of his coat. John felt his stomach drop at the sight of a very wobbly but still recognizable signature on the license. 

After a long and unsettling silence Sherlock suddenly spoke sounding remarkably pleased with himself as he smirked at the bewildered look on John’s face. “I was thinking we could visit Alcatraz for our honeymoon, they have tours.”


	2. Rear Window

Red: New Yorkers, Underwear, Jimmy Stewart, Playing Golf, and Blood  
Green: Cold, Friendly, Shocking, Swift, And Enjoyable

“Here, you can pretend to be L.B. Jeffries.” John said as he handed Sherlock a pair of binoculars. 

Sherlock sulked in his wheelchair his broken leg propped up and covered in a snow white cast. He was silent glaring out at the closed curtains even as he grabbed the binoculars and set them on his lap and crossed his arms with an angry huff.

John looked at Sherlock and sighed. “I thought you would know this one but you don’t have any idea who L.B. Jeffries is do you?”

“I don’t bother to remember pointless pop culture trivia.” Sherlock said glaring at the closed curtains.

“It’s not pointless pop trivia, it’s a classic. L.B. Jeffries is the main character from Rear Window, the Hitchcock movie starring Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly. He spied on his neighbors with binoculars and thought he’d witnessed one of them murder his wife. No one would believe him so he decided that he would prove it himself, only he was stuck in his flat with only his girlfriend and his nurse to help him. He had Lisa his girlfriend search the murderer’s apartment because his leg was broken, just like yours is.” John said pulling back the curtains so that Sherlock could see out the window.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow a small well-hidden smirk on his face. “You want me to spy on our neighbors? For a man of your moral standing that is shocking.” 

“No I just don’t want you complaining about being bored, or destroying the flat, or trying to do something that will get yourself hurt. Especially since I will be at work in an hour and I won’t be able to help you until I get back. Deduce the people that walk by or see if you can spot a murderer from a distance. It’ll be more fun than sulking on the couch. You might even find it to be an enjoyable way to pass the time. Want any tea?” John asked as he made his way into the kitchen, getting the kettle ready after washing it out just in case Sherlock had done something with it while he wasn’t looking.

Sherlock scowled and refused to answer him, but when John brought him his cup of tea he was looking through the binoculars at the people passing by their flat. He held out the mug but Sherlock was intent on the street below and John left the cup on the table beside him. Sherlock would drink it on his own time even if it was cold and disgusting by the time he got to it. Besides he had to get ready for work and trying to force Sherlock to drink his tea would be nothing but a waste of time. He got ready and went to work after cooking breakfast for the both of them and setting Sherlock’s plate beside him for him to ignore.

John spent the day wondering if Sherlock had gotten bored yet and convincing children that a shot wouldn’t involve much blood or pain. He put on a kind smile for his patients and tried to retain his patience as the stories grew more and more tedious as the day dragged on. He endured the attentions of an overly friendly patient eventually convincing them that he was just the doctor and his insistence on knowing everything about how they were feeling was not romantic interest. By the time the last hour was up he was hoping that time would go a bit quicker and he could go home and see if his home was still standing. When the time finally did come he ran out of the office swift as a cheetah on the hunt.

When he reached Baker Street he nearly sighed in relief that there were no police cars, fire trucks, or ambulances to be seen. There was no smoke coming out of the windows and Mrs. Hudson had not run out to him the instant he was in sight. He walked up the stairs still a bit apprehensive about what he would see and he relaxed when he saw that Sherlock hadn’t moved except to drink his tea and eat his breakfast. He was still looking out the window with his binoculars.

“So have fun?” John asked walking p to Sherlock.

“See that man over there.” Sherlock said handing John the pair of binoculars.

“The one covered in leather and tattoos?” John asked looking over at Sherlock for confirmation. At Sherlock’s nod he looked through the binoculars focusing on the man. 

“He just bought his girlfriend Miranda lingerie and is attempting to hide the bag under his jacket. You can tell from the slight bulge of the bag and the pink ribbon of the drawstring peeking out from the bottom of his jacket.” Sherlock said gesturing at the man with each deduction, his hand pointing to each thing in turn though John couldn’t see it since he was too intent on looking through the binoculars.

“How do you know he bought underwear for his girlfriend and not his wife and how do you know her name’s Miranda?” He asked suddenly unable to see whatever it was that allowed Sherlock to deduce it.

“No wedding ring, no tan line on the ring finger, no tattoo on the ring finger, he’s not married. He has a tattoo of her name under a portrait of a woman. He didn’t try and cover it up so the relationship is still going strong; he’s using the lingerie to distract his girlfriend from the fact that he’s going to propose. There’s an outline in his left front pocket, obviously a ring box.” Sherlock said watching John move the binoculars to get a better look at the things Sherlock pointed out.

He took the binoculars for a moment and handed them back to John. He then pointed across the street at a pair of men in nice suits carrying a heavy looking golf bag nearly spilling all the clubs into the street with every step. “See those two walking across the street, they are from New York. They are here on business but have wasted their trip playing golf at the behest of the man they were meeting. They are obviously business partners, they played golf but they wore suits, you can tell from the dirt smears on their legs. Someone who was planning on golfing would have changed into something more appropriate. He gave them the golf bag as a gift and neither of them are golfers, just look at how they carry the bag.”

“Okay I can see the golf bag, but why do you think they are from New York?” John asked looking over at Sherlock to see how he’d explain it.

Sherlock gestured for him to look back out the window and he did. “Look at the wrist of the man closest to the street he’s wearing a New York Yankees watch and the other man is a fan of the Knicks he has the logo tattooed on the side of his neck. They could be from anywhere in the country but sports fans tend to be loyal to their state.” 

John huffed. “How do you know the logos of American sports teams and not Rear Window?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “It had to do with a case.”


	3. Movie Night

Red: Danny DeVito, Batman & Robin, Humphrey Bogart, Bow & Arrows, and Florence Nightingale  
Green: Snappy, Cut & Dried, Heartless, Lazy, and Peaceful

“Sherlock!” John yelped as he ducked down an arrow whizzing right over his head. It bounced off the wall leaving a chipped spot right where his head would have been if he hadn’t ducked. 

He glared at Sherlock, but as was usual when Sherlock was doing something he found more important he ignored him choosing to notch another arrow in his bow. He let it fly leaving John just barely enough time to duck out of the way with another shout of. “Sherlock!” 

The arrow had just missed piercing John’s ear, he’d even felt the air cool as it whipped by his face. Now he knew some people thought that Sherlock was heartless and he never believed them, moments like these however really began to test the extent of his belief in his friend. Sherlock wouldn’t hurt him, not permanently at least. He’d never do anything that could jeopardize their friendship, but a bored Sherlock with a weapon was a dangerous combination.

Sherlock held the bow aiming his next strike at John’s heart. He was focused, but there was something in his eyes resembling mischief if you knew what to look for. “No need to get snappy John, they’re rubber tipped arrows. You’re not in any danger.” Sherlock let loose another arrow and John hit the floor smashing the dvd cases in his hands against the ground.

John was seething as he stood up and stomped over to Sherlock yanking the bow out of his hands. He tossed it to the side, tempted to do something more to destroy it, and verbally waggled his finger at Sherlock. “Not in any danger! You were shooting at me! You were aiming at my face!” 

“And you ducked. I don’t see what the problem is.” Sherlock sounded remarkable casual as he flung himself into his overstuffed green chair.

“Really, you don’t see what the problem is? You could have hit me in the eye, you could have broken something, you actually chipped the wall, and Mrs. Hudson is going to raise the rent again! Tonight was supposed to be a peaceful movie night not a game of duck or die!” John’s hands were a clear indicator of just how angry he was with his flatmate.

Sherlock groaned and looked at John like he was an idiot. “You’re exaggerating, even if I had hit you, I used rubber tipped arrows John. Much safer than the alternative and you’re not stupid enough to stand still when someone shoots at you.”

“And thank God for that. I’m pretty certain you would make a lousy nurse.” John pointed at Sherlock accusingly but all of the anger had drained out of his tone leaving him sounding vaguely amused.

Sherlock seemed annoyed by John’s amusement, or at least that’s the impression that John got when he tucked his knees up to his chin. “I will admit I’m no Florence Nightingale, but I never hit you.”

“Not for lack of trying.” John remarked but his light tone was enough to ensure Sherlock that he was over nearly being shot by an arrow. “Now as I was going to say before you decided to try and turn me into a human pincushion I got the movies, Casablanca and Skyfall, and before you ask yes it’s a James Bond movie.”

Sherlock sighed slumping down in his chair. “I thought I said I wanted to watch something intelligent for a change.”

John looked down at the covers and ignored him. “I think Mrs. Hudson has a thing for Humphrey Bogart, last time she asked for The African Queen, and before that it was The Maltese Falcon.”

“And we’re stuck watching James Bond again.” Sherlock said with mock joy bouncing like a little kid before slumping down in his chair like a sulking teenager.

“Yeah well I looked for something else but there wasn’t much of a selection. I asked for something dark and realistic and the clerk suggested I get Batman and Robin as a joke. And because I’m certain you don’t know Batman and Robin is literally the worst Batman movie in existence. Nolan did much better and the one with Danny DeVito as the Penguin is pretty good, but that one is one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen. I think if I’d have gone with that selection that you would have chucked the television out onto the street in the first five minutes.” John let out an annoyed huff and made his way over to his chair. Without the bow in easy reach of Sherlock he let himself relax into the worn red fabric. 

“I wouldn’t do that how would I watch crap telly?” Sherlock said sounding almost completely serious, though he wasn’t really trying to hide that he was joking.

“You’d find some other way to be lazy I’m sure.” John quipped back and unlike Sherlock he was being serious.

“I suppose I could always spend a day solving the boring cut and dried cold cases that Anderson’s stupidity froze.” Sherlock sighed.

John couldn’t help the wide smile and giggles that escaped him as he shook his head. “See didn’t even take you five seconds to think of something else.”


End file.
